


Wealth

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Ficlet, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio sees Noctis’ old and new omegas.





	Wealth

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He returns to the hotel before his charge without much trepidation—he did promise to guard his prince at every moment, but that was when Noctis was just learning to summon a sword into his hand. Now he’s grown into a promising alpha more than capable of watching his own back, and Iris is almost as skilled. Gladiolus thought it would be nice to let his sister have a moment alone with her childhood crush, at least just through the peaceful streets of Lestallum, even if they all know it’ll never go anywhere. Noctis has never shown any interest in acquiring a beta, and his plate’s already full.

Gladiolus returns to their room expecting to see the entirety of that plate. He doesn’t _see_ anything when he first steps inside—he’s hit with a heavy cloud of pheromones thick enough to choke on. Evidently, the scent blockers in the hotel hallway are good at their job. It takes him a second to adjust to the reek of _sex_. The smell of pleased omega is subtly laced beneath it. When Gladiolus’ vision clears, there’s still red behind his eyes—the feral hunger that comes to any alpha when they sense such a tempting morsel. But he reminds himself, as he often has to, that this particular ravished omega is already taken. He belongs to Gladiolus’ prince, a prince that Gladiolus has vowed to serve. Gladiolus fights his base instincts and makes his way to the second bed—the one that’s his alone.

Ignis lies in the first bed. On his front with his face turned against the pillow, the creamy expanse of his back is visible right down to his tailbone, where the blanket just barely covers the hump of his taut ass. His pale skin is marred in several places with the red bruises of teeth and hands, none too gently showing ownership. Ignis’ glasses are set on the nightstand between them, his clothes neatly folded in a stack on the floor. At Gladiolus’ footsteps, his long lashes slowly flutter halfway up, his dilated eyes hazily peering at Gladiolus. It’s obvious that he’s been fucked into oblivion—Gladiolus is half surprised to find him conscious.

Gladiolus knows, of course, that Ignis can take it. He trained Ignis himself. He made sure that even the prince’s prime omega, bonded to him so early on, knew how to fight and defend. And Gladiolus enjoyed every minute of that—watching Ignis pant and sweat as Gladiolus tossed him about the training yard. But there’s still a part of Gladiolus that will always see Ignis as a sweet, sophisticated, beautiful _omega_ that should only be handled gently. He grunts without obvious judgment, “How are you?”

Ignis closes his eyes before answering, letting out a long exhale that sounds far too laboured. Then he sighs in a lilting, almost melodic tone: “Pleasantly used.”

Gladiolus nods as Ignis reopens his eyes. There is an upside to his ‘use,’ at least: “Good to see that he hasn’t completely forgotten you, now that he’s gotten a shiny new omega.”

For a long moment, Ignis just looks at him. There isn’t really a _frown_ on Ignis’ thin lips, but Gladiolus knows him well enough to suspect he’s just too exhausted to bother. Gladiolus can sense the disappointment and half expects to be chastised.

Instead, Ignis murmurs quietly, “I’m not jealous, Gladio. In fact, I quite enjoy having Prompto around.”

Gladiolus can’t help but snort. “That eager to share?” It doesn’t seem fair that he should have to: Ignis is more dedicated to his alpha than any omega Gladiolus has ever seen. He should enjoy the full spotlight. “It was one thing when we’d joke about how royal alphas usually get harems, but those two are together all the time now...”

“Thank goodness,” Ignis mutters. “When I was his only one, I served him in so many other ways that I feared I could do none of them truly _well_. Something had to give.” He pauses to let out another breath bordering on a yawn. It’s strange to hear that noise from Ignis—he’s normally so put-together, so on top of everything, that Gladiolus can’t help but wonder just how rough Noctis really was with him. A moment, and Ignis continues, “It’s actually a relief to be able to focus mainly on my intellectual duties, now that I know he has someone else to satiate his enormous appetite. Noctis is quite virile, as I’m sure you know.”

Gladiolus more than knows. He’s seen it on more than one occasion—watched his lazy bum of a prince go from couch potato to hungry panther in an instant. Yet he can’t help but note: “Looks like Prompto didn’t do his job well enough today then.”

Ignis chuckles. He admits, “I might prefer my many royal duties to simply sitting around looking pretty like a traditional omega... but every once in a while, I still want _my alpha_.” Ignis shifts his weight slightly, giving Gladiolus a brief flash of his chest from the side—there’s a wide bite mark around his darkened nipple and scratch marks all down his hip. Settling again and burrowing back into his pillow, Ignis sighs, “And Noctis is _very_ good about thoroughly satisfying me.”

Gladiolus grunts his acknowledgement but doesn’t say anymore. He has a new book in his suitcase he brought to read, on the very real chance that the other three got busy and he had time alone, but he doesn’t go for it now. He can’t tear his eyes away from Ignis’ gorgeous body. A part of him is glad to know that Noctis is keeping Ignis happy, but there’s always a part of him that thinks Noctis takes Ignis’ perfection for granted. At least Gladiolus is around to appreciate him. And admire him. Ignis doesn’t seem to mind the attention. He lounges under Gladiolus’ hungry gaze, still radiating the leftover lust from another alpha. 

Gladiolus doesn’t even look up when the door opens, but he knows who it is without looking. In his peripherals, Prompto strips down. There’s no one with him. But then, he couldn’t have been with Noctis—Gladiolus left him and Iris alone together on purpose—so there’s nowhere else Prompto should’ve been but in the bed Ignis occupies, waiting to serve his alpha like the good omega Ignis is. 

But Gladiolus knows his prince loves that ill-trained commoner omega, and more importantly, he knows Ignis will be annoyed with him if he snaps. So he keeps the bark out of his voice when he asks, “Where were you?”

Prompto still winces. Gladiolus doesn’t take it personally—he’s a big alpha that intimidates everyone who doesn’t know him well. They’ll know each other better eventually. Prompto tells him, “Talking to Talcott. Noc—I mean, His Highness found a cactuar figurine for him and asked me to deliver it.”

Gladiolus chooses not to comment on the slip. Prompto’s attention turns to Ignis, probably because Ignis is letting out a welcoming puff of pheromones calling Prompto to him. Prompto responds immediately, getting out of his socks and climbing into bed, slipping beneath the blanket. He cuddles up to Ignis’ side, one arm stretching over Ignis’ back and his face burrowing between Ignis’ neck and shoulder. Ignis lifts up just enough to turn his face towards Prompto. Gladiolus watches them nose at one another for awhile, until Prompto dizzily purrs, “You smell like our alpha...”

Ignis doesn’t show any reaction to the ‘our.’ He hums, “And I suspect I will for several days...”

Prompto tilts his head curiously. He seems to have already forgotten Gladiolus’ presence, because he forgoes the title a new omega should be using. “Noctis doesn’t fuck me that hard.”

“Well,” Ignis drawls, pausing around another semi-yawn, “the two of you do make love all day... whereas when it comes around to my time with him, it’s been pent up for a good while.”

“I guess...”

“You could ask for it harder. I’m sure he’d oblige.”

Gladiolus resists commenting: he’s not sure Prompto could take that yet. He’s training, too—Gladiolus will _make_ him strong. But in the meantime, he’s no Ignis. 

He shrugs against the sheets and nuzzles into Ignis again, muffling against his skin, “I like it all ways; I just want Noct to be happy.”

Which, Gladiolus supposes, makes Prompto a very good omega after all. But it doesn’t seem like his opinion matters anymore. Prompto’s already deferring to Ignis, and Ignis is sharing their alpha’s scent and coddling him back. Gladiolus simply has the privilege of watching them. 

It’s not long before Noctis returns: the last member of their little group. He throws Gladiolus a, “Hey,” before bee-lining right for the bed. Ignis, clearly still spent, does nothing, but Prompto looks up, eager and adoring. Noctis just grabs him and flips him onto his back, manhandling him into place and slotting between his legs. Prompto spreads them wide open and wraps his arms around Noctis’ clothed back. Gladiolus can hear Noctis’ belt coming undone, even if it’s difficult to see around so many limbs and sheets.

He should probably look away. No one tells him to. So he watches Prompto arch and gasp as Noctis fills him up, shoving immediately inside him without any ceremony: their whole relationship is foreplay. Gladiolus can hear the wet squelch as Noctis pushes deeper. Prompto clutches to Noctis’ shirt and gasps as his alpha starts making love to him. Ignis remains close enough that their sides touch, watching them with tired interest. 

Gladiolus relaxes back against the headboard. He might’ve missed the matinee, but at least he gets to enjoy the new evening show.


End file.
